


Foxholes and Shadows

by Selenite_Flowers



Category: Nevermoor Series - Jessica Townsend
Genre: Book 2: Wundersmith: The Calling of Morrigan Crow, Canon compliance? Who’s to say, Ezra Squall is a boomer, Ezra Squall is aggressively formal, Henry Mildmay is a little shit, I suppose?, M/M, Mildmay’s moral compass just has the word ‘ME’ on it, Missing Scene, Pre-Slash, There’s a whole lotta sexual tension basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29746959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenite_Flowers/pseuds/Selenite_Flowers
Summary: Henry’s always been a little self-centred. Loyal is probably the farthest thing from any word one could use to describe him. The Wundrous Society has his loyalty through the power it can give him. So really, it’s no wonder a man without a shadow views him as the perfect chink in Wunsoc’s armour.Ezra Squall is a handsome, rich, powerful man with a far better offer. Henry can work with that.Following the meeting and recruitment of one Henry Mildmay by one Wundersmith.
Relationships: Henry Mildmay & Ezra Squall, Henry Mildmay/Ezra Squall(implied)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Foxholes and Shadows

Henry mussed his hair as he gazed in the bathroom mirror. He squinted at the mop of blonde hair, and pressed his mouth into a thin line. It was a little more frizzy than the ‘attractively unruly’ he was going for. He opened the cabinets, grabbed the bottle he was looking for, smeared some hair oil on his hand and pulled his fingers through his curls. He studied the way they fell now and smiled. Perfect. 

Today was going to be interesting at the very least, he had a meeting with the Wundersmith. The Wundersmith wanted to talk with him(he had said something about recruitment too but Henry couldn’t quite remember the exact words, considering the fact that he was drunk at the time).

First impressions were important, though, he thought as he rubbed some moisturiser on his face. Even if the actual first impression… he winced. ‘Sloppy drunk’ was not the impression he’d wanted the Evilest Man To Ever Live to think of him.

  
  


_Henry stumbled out of the nightclub on his six inch heels he refused to take off. He thanked the Deities that he hadn’t picked his eight inch ones._

_The cool night air had been welcome on his burning skin, and the quiet courtesy of the absence of blasting speakers soothed his exhausted ears._

_He sighed, walking through the tangled mess that was the back alley streets of Nevermoor. The only sound in the empty alleyways that hour of the morning were the flicker of the fluorescent lights and Henry’s heels against the concrete._

_He rubbed his tired face, closing his eyes as he passed under a street lamp— which was a bad idea because his heel had caught on a crack in the pavement and he’d nearly fallen face first into the ground. He steadied himself on a brick half-wall that made the entrance to a… playground? One set of swings, a slide, one of those spinning platform things he always used to get sick on as a kid, and two picnic tables. He sighed and sat on the wall, feeling the brick against the skin on his upper thighs. Now he was a little less drunk he was definitely beginning to regret his choice of white blouse, black booty shorts, and fishnets. He rubbed his eye, accidentally smearing his eyeliner worse than it already was._

_He looked up to see a man standing under the fluorescent light in front of him. He wore a grey suit, and his dark hair was combed back neatly. He leaned on the lamp post as confident as if he owned the entire street. He looked like a sexy accountant._

_Henry laughed at the thought. He always thought he was terribly funny while drunk. He dropped his gaze, and noticed the odd way the light lay unbroken on the path._

_“You don’t have a shadow.” He’d looked up at the man once more, meeting his dark eyes. “How does one lose a shadow?” He asked, tilting his head and giggling a little._

_“I have plenty of shadows,” Squall had said, calmly._

_“How cryptic,” Henry said grinning and leaning forward. “Do you have a name, or has it run off with your shadow?”_

_“Ezra Squall.”_

_Henry had reeled back so hard he’d almost fallen backwards off the wall. He grabbed the bricks and hauled himself back up. “Either your parents had some awful sense of humour or—” He studied the smirking face. “Oh. Oh fuck.”_

_He chuckled. “Henry Mildmay, correct?”_

_He’d nodded before pausing and hesitantly saying “...No?”_

_“Don’t worry… Mr Mildmay. I don’t intend to hurt you.” The Wundersmith’s lip had curled as he looked Henry up and down._

_Henry overbalanced a little as he got off of the wall and stood up, a little surprised that he was only an inch or two shorter than the evillest man to ever live. Then again he was wearing six inch heels._

_“I could be the drunkest man in the world I still wouldn’t be stupid enough to take the word of a murderer. What makes me any different to the people in Courage Square?”_

_“I didn’t want the assistance of anyone in Courage Square.” He shrugged, narrowing his eyes. “I know what I’ve done, Mr Mildmay, my actions aren’t enough to constitute an insult._

_“And besides.” Henry was pulled into the glow of the street light by an invisible force, close enough for him to see into the other man’s gleaming black eyes. “If I wanted to hurt you Mr Mildmay, I’d have already done so.”_

_“Fair point,” he’d admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Tell me then, what does the actual fucking_ Wundersmith _want with me?”_

_“You underestimate yourself, Mr Mildmay.” The Wundersmith said. “You are in the Wundrous Society, are you not?”_

_He laughed, tilting his head back. “Well of course I am.”_

_“Then you’re the perfect… man for the job,” the Wundersmith had looked him up and down, and had Henry been more sober he might’ve taken offence._

_Henry laughed again and leaned forward, so close to Squall that it had made him look a little uncomfortable. “Something against heels, Mr Squall?”_

_“I have to wonder how one walks in them.” Squall maintained eye contact, expression neutral._

_Henry studied his handsome face, noticing the scarred eyebrow, minimal smile lines, and the translucent-pale complexion of his skin. “It’s all a matter of experience,” he grinned. “And my_ impeccable _balance.”_

_“In any case,” Squall had said. “Should you wish to have everything you’ve ever wanted you’ll find the key to a hotel room in the Republic, and easy passage to it.” The corner of Squall’s mouth turned up ever-so-slightly. “I’m sure you know of Swindleroads and Tricksy Lanes. But have you heard of Foxholes?”_

_Foxholes? His brow creased, he’d never heard of anything like that in conjunction with Tricksy Lanes and Swindleroads. He hesitantly shook his head._

_“No? Not surprising, the Wundrous Society destroyed most records of them decades ago. They’re useful little things. Go in somewhere and pop out somewhere entirely different. Trouble is they only show up in Nevermoor, and unless you went through one way, they don’t let you go the other.”_

_“I see,” said Mildmay, the gears in his brain turning. He took a step back, out of the light. “And if I don’t want all my dreams to come true?”_

_“Then you’re far too much of a coward to be useful,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly._

_“I’ll think about it, Mr Squall. Thank you for telling me about Foxholes. I have some reading to do.” He had turned and began walking down the road once more, glancing over his shoulder to find the Wundersmith had disappeared._

_He’d definitely not been expecting him to be so_ damn _attractive._

  
  


Henry applied the last bit of highlighter to his face, just at his Cupid’s bow. A little smear of slightly tinted gloss on his lips and it was perfect.

He smiled, but it was less a smile and more a baring of teeth, all sharp and cold and deadly. He grabbed a coat on his way out as he headed to Squall Industries.

Today was _certainly_ going to be interesting.

  
  


The interior of the Wundersmith’s residence was grand(which wasn’t to say the exterior was plain), it wasn’t exactly a surprise considering the man practically had a monopoly on wunder in the Republic. Every material and object in the rooms he was ushered through was luxurious and expensive, if a little minimalistic.

The man himself sat waiting in the meeting room, comfortable and at ease. There was something in his eyes though, like a snake poised to strike. Henry almost cringed at the reality of how straight-laced the Wundersmith appeared to be. Definitely made him regret drinking that night in a way that a hangover never had. If he embarrassed himself here he just knew it would be one of those moments he thought about in eight years at three am. Well, provided he survived this. He was waved over to the couch opposite Squall and sat, watching the man pick up a cup of some hot drink that Henry assumed was tea.

“Tea, Mr Mildmay?” Asked Squall.

So he’d been right. “No thank you,” he replied amicably. After a moment he added by way of explanation, “I’m a coffee drinker. And just Henry’s fine.”

He was not, in fact, a coffee drinker. He just didn’t want to deal with his gloss transferring. Better to play things close to the vest with regards to such a dangerous man. A thought occurred to him, he glanced down.

Squall cast a shadow now. Curious.

“Well Mr Mildmay, since you are here I might venture a guess that you wish to take me up on my offer.” Said Squall. His face was blank but Henry could see there was some smug glint in his eye, as if he knew the answer and was simply marvelling in the affirmation of how clever he was.

Henry tilted his head, a little perturbed by Squall’s continued formality. “And that offer would be?”

“A mole in the Wundrous Society.”

Henry blinked. “You believe I would betray my brothers and sisters for life.”

The Wundersmith snorted, leaning back. “You’re here aren’t you? You are well aware of who I happen to be and you visited the Republic against the law to meet me. Were it morbid curiosity alone I might call you the cat, for all it’s suicidal.”

“Satisfaction brought him back,” he replied absently. “People always forget that part. Though you have a point I do suppose, I wouldn’t be here if I cared much for some greater morality.”

“Why are you here, then?” Something gleamed in Squall’s dark eyes.

“My whole life I’ve been studying the oddities of Nevermoor. I had to find an ancient, _illegal_ book to find any reading on Foxholes. I did a little more reading on it, and all the old research papers and books were banned by Wunsoc.”

“Yes, they seem to believe Nevermoor itself is on a need-to-know basis,” he said, as though there were a bad taste in his mouth.

“I tolerated years of being isolated and mocked by my ‘brothers and sisters’ for my mundane knack because Wunsoc told me I was special.” Henry scowled. “I’m special for cartography, and they never once trusted me to know about Foxholes. I figure I might as well see if the other side has a better offer, it’s not like Wunsoc’sever prioritised me. Someone has to.”

“Self interest is a greatly underrated motivation, in my humble opinion.”

Henry very much doubted Squall was in _any_ way humble. “So what is it you need me for?”

“I need a mole in the Wundrous Society, I’m sure you know of the Ghastly Market— it’s under my jurisdiction currently. I’m in the mind to target knacks of a high marketability. The only problem currently is being unable to find the knacks my Bonesmen should target. All you would need to do is keep an eye out for interesting and rare abilities, and simply inform me and my associates.”

The cogs in Henry’s brain turned as he listened to the other man. The fact that Squall hadn’t balked at his intoxication or dress when they first met meant it was likely Henry was really the only man for the job. Either that or it cemented the Wundersmith’s choice. Maybe perceived vulnerability and/or perceived vices made him seem a better candidate for a mole. Find rare knacks, report them, profit. It seemed fairly straightforward as Squall explained it.

“I see, so I feed you information on rare knacks and then those people disappear?” He asked.

“I do need more information than just that,” the Wundersmith corrected. “If there are times they’re likely to be alone, secluded places they frequent, so on and so forth.” He fluttered a pale hand.

Henry’s stomach should have been turning, but this was the Wundersmith asking him a favour. He brushed a golden curl from his face. “That should be simple enough. I’m not the most noticeable person in Wunsoc.”

“Aren’t you?” Squall raised an eyebrow, looking his ensemble up and down. 

Henry held a smile in, the Wundersmith thought his dress pants, boots, and _slightly_ frilly dress shirt were attention catching? To be fair he supposed the man had grown up a hundred years ago(which was odd to reconcile with the middle-age looking man in front of him). “I do have one question though.”

“Ask away,” said Squall.

He met Squall’s cold black eyes with his half-lidded hazel ones. “What’s in it for me?”

“Money, power, fame.” He leaned back, regarding Henry. “The connections you’ll make with the best of the worst in the Free State and beyond... a reputation with them will go further than you expect.”

“Less fame than infamy I rather think.” Henry suppressed a smirk, he probably shouldn’t be poking a bear as dangerous as ‘the evilest man to ever live’ but testing the limits of Squall’s patience would be useful information(provided he wasn’t just murdered, which was a calculated risk he was willing to take.)

“Well, there isn’t much of a difference in my experience, Mr Mildmay,” he said, looking amused.

“Henry,” he corrected.

“Mr Mildmay,” he continued. Henry fought the rising urge to pout. “Once I take Nevermoor I won’t forget my allies. Do your job well and you may have a seat at my right hand.”

“Well.” He shrugged, trying to hide his breathless thrill at the concept. “Better than languishing in obscurity.”

“I do suppose it is.” Squall smiled, so sharply Henry could’ve cut himself on it. “Then it’s a deal?” He asked.

Henry smiled back and reached his hand over the table, Squall grasped his hand and Henry felt his heart rate increase. “Absolutely.”

“There are some last formalities to go through,” Squall said, standing up and motioning him toward the door. “Namely the manner of contact.”

Henry walked after him, following the older man through as he was informed of the ways Squall could be contacted. He only half listened as he admired the impressive architecture, the way the dark stone and wood complimented each other. It was almost gothic in its grandeur.

Once he was through an impressively tall doorway and following Squall through a hallway something occurred to him. “Why do you need a mole, when you can already get back to Nevermoor?”

“Now why would I tell you that, Mr Mildmay?” Squall raised an eyebrow.

“Henry’s really fine.” He said, cringing at the formality. ‘Mr Mildmay’ made him sound like a forty year old with a mortgage, drinking habit, and a fondness for golf.

“Of course, Mr Mildmay.” Henry was sure the Wundersmith was doing it just to spite him now.

“But anyway, what do you need _anyone_ for if you can get into Nevermor, what’s stopping you from taking the city right now?” Henry realised something. “Unless you _aren’t_ getting into Nevermoor. Is that where your shadow goes?”

“As much as this speculation is entertaining, I have better things to do than spy on the Wundrous Society for profit.” Squall was an excellent liar, but Henry had figured him out and the lie had only made him more convinced.

“What’s to stop me going to the Elders and informing them of this enlightening conversa— agh!” Henry was winded as Squall slammed him against the wall with more force than just the arm pinning him there.

“Don’t presume to threaten me, _Henry_.” Squall snarled, pressing his forearm down against his chest. His eyes and mouth looked entirely black, just for a second. “I am not a man to make an enemy of.”

Squall let Henry go so suddenly he almost fell over. He shivered a little as he subtly checked and found the other man’s features perfectly normal.

He caught his breath, gasping cool air into his lungs for a moment or two and straightened up. As much as he was a little absolutely fucking terrified at earning the Wundersmith’s ire, being able to get under his skin and survive had to be some kind of achievement.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He walked further down the hallway. Running his fingers through his curls, he turned and smirked as he reached a door he recognised as an exit and an idea popped into his head. “You know, _Ezra_ ,” he began, savouring the name. “If you wanted me pinned against a wall, you could have just asked.”

Squall blinked, clearly not expecting that response. Some little part of Henry celebrated at throwing the man off-kilter, he winked. “I’ll be in contact.”

He walked out the door and didn’t look back, feeling entirely satisfied with himself.

This was most definitely going to be an interesting endeavour, at the very least.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading two thousand words of these idiots. Mildmay’s a femboy, it’s canon, I don’t take criticism. Also: yes I did make Foxholes up so I could have them actually physically interact. Once again this is dedicated to my lovely fellow crackshippers on the discord, you’re the real mvps and soon ALL shall be Squallmay shippers <3
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated but don’t feel obligated!!


End file.
